Arrows of Time - Kim Falconer [165]
‘Dr Kelly?’
He didn’t reply. His eyes shifted from the table to the delicate wrist of the woman who lay upon it, her hand like a lotus, white fingers curled, red-painted nails pointing towards him. He closed his eyes.
‘Dr Kelly?’ The attendant was next to him, shoulder to shoulder. He appreciated the touch, the contact bringing him back to the present. ‘What happens now?’ The question was outlined on everyone’s face as he scanned the room.
‘Is it too late for Cryo?’ a med student asked.
‘She’s not going there,’ Everett said, after clearing his throat again.
‘I don’t understand. Where, then?’
‘We’ll put together a death kit. Run the procedures and get her down to the morgue.’
A nurse stared up at him. ‘Dr Kelly, we don’t have a morgue.’
‘We do now.’ He felt a wash of relief. Some of his staff had been alive for decades past their centenary, patched together with synthesised donor parts, looking lopsided and taut from repeated plastic surgeries. Their eyes were tired, glazed. Lifeless. Without death, there could be no life. She had explained it to him. Now he had to convince ASSIST, and the rest of the world.
‘What’s a death kit?’ the nurse asked.
‘Get me a lab pack,’ he directed. ‘I’ll show you how this is done.’ He snapped on a fresh pair of gloves. ‘Hally, can you call Admin for me? I want Dr Martin in on this.’
‘Chief of Staff?’
‘Please.’
The door swung wide and a large man appeared, gasping for breath. ‘Dr Kelly? The press are here. What do I do?’
‘Let them in, and cancel my appointments for the rest of the day.’
Everett squinted as the digi-cameras flashed. The press edged into the exam room, throwing questions at him from the second they crossed the threshold. He motioned them closer, covering the corpse with a sheet, calm in the midst of fervour.
‘Dr Kelly. We’ve heard you’ve just pronounced a death. Is there some mistake?’
The room went silent.
‘No mistake,’ he said. ‘She died at 1.05 p.m.’
A barrage of questions erupted and he addressed them, answering each reporter, one at a time.
EARTH & GAELA—TIME: FORWARD
CHAPTER 38
Teg awoke; his head was resting easily under a bunched cloak. For a second, he didn’t feel the pain. In that instance he didn’t remember anything but warmth and a sense of peace. He groaned when the second passed.
‘You’re awake.’ Kali laughed softly. ‘I thought I’d have to carry you out of the corridors, and I wasn’t looking forward to it.’
The sense of peace vanished as his memory rushed back—the race to the portal, the wounds from fang and sword, Le Saint’s challenge, his escape with Kreshkali. He groaned again, inside and out.
‘That bad?’ she asked.
‘Worse.’ He shifted onto his side. ‘I feel like I’ve been mauled.’
‘Drink this.’
He tilted his head back, accepting the liquid with its earthy fragrance and bitter aftertaste.
‘More,’ she said, holding the vial up to his lips.
He took another gulp and pulled his head away. ‘I’ll be sick.’
She handed him a waterskin and returned to her vigil by the entrance. ‘Wash it down. Slow sips.’
The water was sweet, though the sour aftertaste remained. ‘Thanks.’
He could see her profile outlined in the dark. She was standing at the mouth of the portal, streams of light rushing by. He tried to get up and yelped.
‘Not yet,’ she said. ‘Give that draught a minute to work.’ She was back at his side now, her cool hands on his face. ‘You need to learn to protect yourself, Teg,’ she said. ‘Your defence is shocking.’
‘Yes, Mistress.’
Her hands were hovering over his wounds. Warm energy radiated from them and the shooting pains along his side and ankle eased. She tapped his spine, his head and around his eyes, chanting quietly as she did. The pain eased further.
‘That’s magical,’ he smiled, catching her hand and forcing her to look at him. She returned his gaze with a flash of fire that made him let go.
‘Drink more.’ She propped his head and held a waterskin to his lips. ‘You’re dry as bark.’
He swallowed, and choked, sitting up and coughing. ‘That’s not water.’ It was much stronger than the first potion she’d given him. His mouth